Clodagh
What the hell is a huntsman pie? Is that like a chicken potpie but with Australian spiders instead of chicken?
Don’t panic.
Do. Not. Panic.
He’s testing me. He wants a reason to fire me. Another reason.
I stare at my phone in horror as the page loads. Pork… chicken… pulse the dough. Time to cook: three hours, thirty minutes, so I’m already late.
And I still have to take his tux to the dry cleaners. And clean the top floor of the house.
I open the fridge. Close the fridge. Open the fridge.
“Are you kidding me!” I shout into the fridge with no pork, chicken, or dough… stuff… whatever the hell dough is made from. The echo is mildly satisfying. God, he’s a gobshite. Or a jerk, I should say, in the States.
This is all because I had an innocent peek at his condom drawer. I’ll need counseling after getting caught in his off-limits zone.
When the bodiless Quinn told me off, I was more unnerved than when the police took me in for questioning after my series of unfortunate incidents, as Orla calls it.
My heart has only just slowed to a normal pace.
At least he didn’t see me pick my nose directly before that.
Or did he?
“Siri, find me restaurants that do huntsman pies near Central Park.” Thank God for delivery services.
“Sorry,” says Siri. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I don’t have time for your shit, Siri!” I snap back at her.
Taking a deep breath, I repeat the request in my poshest, slowest Queen’s English accent.
She understands immediately and happily engages in conversation. The cheek.
On the other side of Central Park, Le Grand Cochon serves award-winning pies made from organic meat.
Done. Sold for one hundred dollars. I blow out a deep breath.
“Hey,” a deep voice says from behind me, scaring the shit out of me.
I turn. “Sam!”
He leans against the wall, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Someone’s jumpy. First-day nerves?”
“Something like that. I got caught off-limits.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” I sigh. “Hey, I’m assuming that Stephen, who might visit the house today, is Stephen, the drainage guy, and not Stephen, the dentist or Father Steve, the priest. I can’t get ahold of any of them to check.”
His lips twist. “Drainage guy. You’re doing fine, Clodagh. It’ll get easier.”
“Here’s hoping.” I try not to ogle him, but it’s hard when he’s wearing his uniform of black trousers and black shirt with the top buttons undone. It’s a hot look. “If you guys are undercover, shouldn’t you wear something less man-in-black?”
“It’s our job to be conspicuous. Mr. Quinn wants it to be obvious that a security team is present.”
“I’ve only met you, Sam. Where’s the rest of the team?”
“The rest are about watching and waiting.” He grins and saunters closer. “I’m checking on my fellow countrywoman in case she needs anything.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “But… watching? Talk about making a girl feel paranoid.”
He chuckles as he comes to stand right beside me. “Don’t be. It’s a boring job, waiting around. Mr. Quinn sometimes does spot tests on us with fake snipers, but most of the time, we’re in the house working out to pass the time.”
“Fake snipers? Are you freaking kidding me?” I manage to spit a little on Sam in my shock. This sounds very dramatic. “He won’t put a fake sniper on me, will he?”
“Not unless you warrant it.” He smirks. “Relax. Only the security team needs to know how to handle snipers. You’re safe.”
“Yeah, because living in a house at risk of sniper attacks feels safe.” I suck in a groan. “Oh my God, that’s why I’ve been recruited. They know no one will miss me in America.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Oh, you’ll be missed.”
I rear back a little, blushing. Sam’s flirting has upped a notch. I’m not complaining.
“I know he’s a bazillionaire, but this seems extreme. Is he really in need of so much security? The house is already like Fort Knox.”
“Yup.”
That’s all I get. There’s a story there that he doesn’t want to tell me. Maybe he is scared Quinn is listening. I’ll get it out of him when we’re away from the house.
I pretend to look serious. “So you big burly protector guys sit around working out in that house, huh?” Sounds like the perfect setup for a reverse harem. “Maybe I need to take a trip over and say hi.”
“Damn, I should have kept my mouth shut. The house wouldn’t be able to handle a beautiful lass like yourself.” His grin widens, accentuating the dimple on his right cheek. “I’ll act as the liaison between you and the rest of the team.”
“Can you be the liaison between Mr. Quinn and me?” I whisper in case Quinn is watching through his cameras.
“Nah, don’t worry.” He shakes his head dismissively. “You’re safe. He doesn’t go after staff. Or normal girls, for that matter.”
“I didn’t mean that… wait, what do you mean, normal girls?”
“He goes for a certain type of woman.” Sam doesn’t appear to be trying to offend me, which makes the jab even worse.
“Uh-huh.” With my nose out of joint, I change the subject. “Listen, can you show me how to use the A/C properly? It goes from desert heat to arctic conditions when I turn it on.”
My nipples are confused.
Just as he is about to respond, his phone buzzes. It’s the fastest I’ve ever seen someone check a phone. They must be on high alert all the time.
“Damn,” he mutters. His face relaxes, so I know there’s not an emergency. “I’ll be back in a while to show you, okay?”
I nod, smiling. Anyway, I have a pie collection to take care of.
He turns, but not before giving me a cheeky wink. “Oh, and for the record, Clodagh, I’m glad you’re working here.”
***
Dinner sorted, I finish cleaning the last level of the house, Teagan’s floor. Up here, she has her own chill-out room with a massive TV and gaming equipment.
I walk down the hall to her bedroom. It’s gigantic. Teddy bears and Disney cushions are juxtaposed with boxes and shelves of eyeliner, lipstick, hair products, and perfume. A girl becoming a young woman.